


i was at an all night diner

by yoursongonmyheart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Diners, Famous Harry, M/M, Magical Realism, Songwriter Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:13:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoursongonmyheart/pseuds/yoursongonmyheart
Summary: "I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine."//or, the one where none of the boys can sleep and they all meet at a diner where it's always 3 a.m.





	i was at an all night diner

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my boy for this idea. you were right. 
> 
> also, to my cheerleader for giving me great thoughts while working through it.

_"I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine."_

\---

 

Louis can’t sleep. He climbs into bed every night at 11:30 p.m., turns off his bedside lamp, and waits, and waits, and waits, but sleep never comes. 

Everyday at 7:30 a.m., he gets out of bed, showers, gets ready, grabs some toast and some tea, gets on the tube, and goes to his boring job, where he sits at a plain desk, in a lifeless building, doing absolutely nothing. 

That’s a lie, he doesn’t do nothing, but he doesn’t do anything great, either. Just types up to-dos, and meeting notes, and edits whatever is assigned to him before it’s published online. 

Louis isn’t an editor. Louis doesn’t want to be an editor. Louis is a songwriter. 

He keeps an old battered journal (his fourth in last 2 years) next to him, just to keep his sanity, scribbling in it every so often when words materialize in his mind, before they dissolve with the passing of time. 

It’s when he’s on the tube back home that he sees someone, peacefully sleeping as the car squeaks, grinds, and jerks around. Louis scowls, resting his head back hoping that something about the car will lull him to sleep as well. 

Sleep doesn’t come. 

It marks 6 weeks.

 

\-----

 

Louis fidgets in the bed. There’s an owl somewhere nearby. Maybe in the park across the street. 

Louis isn’t sure. 

He’s tired of this. 

He’s tired of staring at the ceiling (he’s counted every speckle 136 times), he’s tired of listening to the cars (there’s been 67 so far tonight), he’s tired of lying there waiting for sleep to come and it never coming. He’s tired of it all.  


He’s been waiting every night for the last 47 days. 

Louis throws the blankets off of himself, shoves his shoes on, grabs a coat and his keys, and leaves. 

The briskness of the cold startles him. 

He huffs, his breath making a small cloud in front of him.

Louis checks his phone, 2:34 a.m. 

The night is still, barely any movement except for the occasional passing headlights. 

Lights are off in homes. 

No one is out. 

The owl keeps gently singing. 

Louis walks.

\----

 

The lights from the diner almost shock him. 

Bright and iridescent against the black sky. 

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen the diner before. 

Maybe in the light he’s never paid attention. 

He walks in without question, the door chiming and slamming behind him. 

There’s soft music playing, but everything seems oddly still.

The walls a soft teal, pink, and blue.

The booths white. 

Everything seems so calm. 

“Evening,” a blonde quips from behind the counter. 

Louis nods at him. 

He surveys the area for a seat. 

There’s a guy with a buzzed head, head down on the table next to an empty plate and a cup of coffee. 

There’s another guy sprawled across the back line of booths, sketchbook lying across the table, and multiple cups of coffee littered along different tables. 

Louis sits at the counter. 

“What can I get ya?” The blonde asks. 

“Um,” Louis looks around. “Tea, please. Milk, no sugar.”

“Got it,” he turns and fetches the tea for him.

Louis reads the menu. 

Is it too late to order food?

“Want me to make you some eggs and toast, too?” he asks, putting the tea down in front of Louis. 

“You’re the cook?” Louis looks up at him. 

“If you’re making eggs Niall, I’ll have some more,” a voice adds groggily, and Louis looks back to see the buzzed head guy speaking. 

He’s sad, is the first thing Louis notices. Big brown eyes tinged with something dark, something hurt. 

“Got it, Liam,” the cook, Niall, says. 

Niall turns to Louis. “So?” 

Louis nods. “Yeah, eggs. Eggs sound good.” 

Niall turns and goes to the kitchen. 

Louis reads the news on his phone while he waits.  
Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing exciting, nothing good, nothing terrible, as of today. 

Louis sighs. 

“Come on, Lime,” Niall bustles through the door, holding two plates. “Come sit next to the little one up here. You could use a friend.” 

Louis glares. 

He doesn’t have it in himself for a remark. 

Niall places the plates down next to each other, then goes back for a third. 

“You too, Zayn. Get your ass up here. You haven’t drawn anything in days.”

There’s a groan from the corner. 

“I mean it,” Niall sings. 

Louis almost has it in him to laugh. 

He doesn’t though. 

Liam, with a buzzed haircut, too big sweatshirt and sad eyes turns to him. “Can’t sleep?” he asks. 

Louis nods. 

Zayn plops in a chair on the other side of Louis. He’s gorgeous, Louis thinks belatedly. All sharp angles, and soft hair. He’s got half his head shaved, the other half wild. His clothes are baggy, dark, and warm. 

His eyes are tired though. 

Louis can tell. 

Niall smiles, all teeth and warm pink cheeks. His eyes are light, blue, and happy, but Louis can see the lines on the corners. The marks of unrest. 

“Liam’s been coming in for the better half of the last 4 months. Zayn, I’d say about 6 months, me, I’ve been working the night shift the last year,” Niall explains. 

Louis takes a bite of eggs. They’re good. 

“Oh,” Louis says. 

“Better than the alternative,” Liam says, a little too bitterly. 

He stabs at his eggs a little too hard. 

No one says anything. 

It’s quiet for a while, Niall retreating to the back to what it sounds like cleaning. 

Louis looks up at the clock at the wall. 

3:00 a.m. 

He furrows his brow. 

That can’t be. 

“Clock’s broken, mate,” Zayn, with his raspy northern accent, tells him. 

Louis hums. 

They stay until dawn. 

 

\-----

 

Louis doesn’t go back the next night. 

Instead he lies awake, soft music playing hoping it will settle him just a little bit. 

He thinks about Liam’s eyes, Zayn’s sketchbook, Niall’s irish tilt to his voice. 

He wonders if they all can’t sleep. 

He wonders how long. 

\----

 

He goes back on the third night. It’s only 1:32 a.m. this time, his impatience and curiosity practically dragging him there. 

Liam is situated in a booth with Zayn this time, Zayn sketching his face while Niall laughs. 

“Hi mate,” Niall greets, with a smile. “Look at these two,” he points at Liam and Zayn. “Don’t think I’ve seen Liam smile in three weeks. But, get Zayn to draw him and suddenly he’s all teeth.” 

Louis sits down and glances back at the pair. Liam’s cheeks tinged pink as Zayn’s hand moves across the paper. 

“‘M names Louis,” Louis offers. 

Niall’s eyes get crinkly. “Hi, Louis. Can’t sleep?” 

“Been 7 weeks,” Louis says as Niall prepares his tea. Just the way he said he took it the first time. 

“Been a year and half for me,” Niall puts the tea down in front of him. 

Louis’ stomach swoops. 

“Really?” 

Niall nods, a little sadly. “Yeah. Nothing works, so I started working the night shift.” 

Louis sighs. 

“Been 6 months for me,” Liam adds, then giggles when Zayn tells him to stop moving. 

“8 months for me,” Zayn starts. “Liam, stop fucking moving.” 

Liam laughs harder. 

Louis smiles. 

“French toast today?” Niall asks. 

“Sure,” Louis agrees. 

It’s the best french toast he’s ever had. 

\----

They settle into a sort of routine after that. 

At 7:30 a.m., Louis gets out of bed, showers, gets ready, grabs some toast and some tea, gets on the tube, and goes to his boring job, where he sits at a plain desk, in a lifeless building, doing absolutely nothing. 

He takes the tube home, eats dinner, waters his plant, watches some crime shows, puts on his shoes, and his coat. He gets to the diner by 12:47 a.m. With Liam and Zayn already there in their respective booths or sharing one, and Niall behind the counter with a smile. 

He stays there until 5:30, when the sun rises, says “see you later” to the boys, and goes home to settle into bed, eyes closed counting backwards from 100, only to do it again the next day. 

Sleep still doesn’t come.

\---

On the 11th week, something changes. 

They’re giggling about one of Liam’s sketches of Zayn, when the door chimes. 

Their heads whip to the source of the sound. 

There’s a boy.

A man really, Louis thinks belatedly. 

A little familiar, with short wispy hair and long legs. His eyes are wide, green, curious. His shoulders are hunched in, making himself seem much smaller than he is. 

“Evening,” Niall greets, just like the first night. “You can sit anywhere.” 

The boy moves slowly, taking a seat four booths back. 

His eyes meet Louis’.

Louis swallows, then looks at Liam and Zayn sitting across from him.

It’s 3:42 a.m. 

“Your turn,” Liam says, handing Louis the paper. 

He studies both of their faces, drawing them as cartoons, before turning to look for Niall, to add him in as well, only to find him sitting, hushed whispers with the boy. 

“Oi!” Louis calls. “Turn to me for a sec, Niall.” 

Niall turns, and the boy does, too. Louis’ face burns. 

“Hold still,” Louis demands, and Niall laughs. 

“They’ve been doing this for the last couple nights,” Louis hears him inform the boy. 

Zayn flips them off. 

Louis draws Niall’s face quickly. 

He adds superhero bodies to them all. 

Niall stands up. “Well? Let me see it.” 

He comes over to the booth making grabby hands. 

“We’re superheroes,” Louis explains. 

There’s a haphazard Green Lantern logo drawn on Zayn’s chest, Batman for Liam, a clover in Niall’s hand, which gets him a “fuck off, Louis”.

“Can I see?” the voice is quiet behind Niall. 

“Sure,” Louis squeaks, as Niall hands him the drawing, laughing. 

The boy studies the paper, line furrowed between his brows, face serious. “I like it,” he declares. 

“Zayn is the real artist here,” Louis rambles. “You should see his stuff, it’s incredible.” 

Zayn blushes red, while Liam beams. “You should, it’s so good. Show him, Zayn.” 

“He does not want to see my drawings. Fuck off, let the boy eat in peace. He doesn’t need you two breathing down his neck,” Zayn mumbles embarrassed. 

“I’d love to see,” the boy interjects. “I don’t mind.” 

Louis goes to Zayn’s bag in the corner and pulls out his real sketchbook. 

“Here you go,” he hands it to the boy, their fingers brushing. Louis’ stomach flutters, for just a second. 

The boy flips through Zayn’s sketchbook slowly, while Niall retreats to the kitchen. 

Zayn shifts in his seat, unsure, but Liam pokes him to get him to smile. 

Louis studies the boy. 

The lines in his forehead, the way he licks his lips, his hands moving through the pages. The slight hunch to his back, the broad width of his shoulders. The dip of his collarbones, his milky white skin. 

All of it. 

“You’re really good,” he tells Zayn when he’s done, handing it back to him. “Do you sell your art?” 

Zayn looks down immediately. “Tried to get in a couple of galleries for months, but they kept turning me down. Apparently an art-school drop-out has no name recognition really. Haven’t made any connections and all that, y’know?”

The boy nods. 

Niall comes back with a tray. 

“You know how to carry a tray?” Louis quips. 

“Fuck off, Lewis,” Niall rolls his eyes. 

“Sit down, Harry. I made enough for us all,” Niall tells him, practically shoving the boy, Harry, Louis thinks hazily, into the booth next to Louis. 

Niall pulls up a chair. 

He’s made them pancakes.

“Well,” he says, “dig in.” 

They all take some pancakes, Liam spreading entirely too much syrup, while Zayn cakes on butter, and Niall heaves on pounds of both. 

Harry adds a little bit of butter and nothing else. 

“You know something,” Liam says with a mouthful. “What do you do, Louis?” 

Harry’s back straightens just a little. 

Louis doesn’t understand. 

“Um,” Louis starts, unsure. “I don’t do much really. Just a desk job, editing boring shit, you know.” 

He shrugs.

Liam accepts the answer. 

“I’m a volunteer firefighter,” Liam adds unhelpfully for Harry. “Mostly take night calls with the whole not sleeping thing.” 

Harry’s eyes snap up. 

He coughs on his pancake a little. Niall claps him on the back. 

“Not sleeping thing?” he manages to choke out.

“Haven’t slept in months, the whole lot of us,” Liam stares at Harry a little curiously. “Over a year for Niall.” 

There’s the sound of a foot hitting a shin and Liam yelps, Zayn glaring at him. 

Harry looks at Niall with wide eyes, then at Louis as if to say, ‘are you serious? please say you’re serious.’ 

Louis smiles softly, and tries his best to convey his message. 

“How long has it been for you?” he asks gently. 

Harry looks startled. 

Zayn hasn’t stopped glaring at Liam. 

“I mean-” Harry starts, then stops himself. He sighs. “Two weeks.” 

“Aw,” Niall ruffles his hair. “A baby.” 

Zayn releases the air he’s been holding in. 

Liam smiles smugly. 

“Looks like we’re all in the same boat,” Louis takes a bite of his pancake.

Harry meets his gaze. Louis doesn’t look away.

\----

 

Harry doesn’t come back for 8 days. 

In that time, Louis learns about Liam. 

He learns how he proposed to his girlfriend, moved into a new city with her, left his family to start his new life with his fiance. 

Three months in, she started fighting with him. Four months in she started throwing things, breaking things, screaming at him. Telling him he never paid attention to her, he didn’t know how to treat her, he didn’t love her enough. 

Five months in, Liam found her in bed with someone else. 

She kicked him out of the flat when he asked for the ring back. 

He had no one to stay with, ending up staying in a hotel for a week, before finding a new flat, and working over time. He started not sleeping 17 days later. 

\---

 

He also learns about Zayn. 

Learns that he dropped out of university where he was studying art, once his mum got sick. 

She’s better now, but he doesn’t have the money to go back to school. Instead he works at a record shop during the day and draws every evening, just trying to get by. 

About a year ago, he started trying to sell his art, tried every gallery in the city. He tried for months. 

They always turned him down. 

Always. 

He started not sleeping somewhere in the middle. 

\---

Niall stays close-lipped. 

\---

Harry comes back on a Wednesday. 

2:22 a.m. 

“Hey Harry,” Niall greets with a smile. 

Liam and Zayn barely look up from their comic book. 

“Hi,” Louis smiles. 

Harry looks a little panicked. 

He sits down at the counter next to Louis. 

“I still can’t sleep,” he rushes out. There’s sweat beading at his hairline, despite the cool air outside. 

Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you think you were going to figure it out?” 

Harry deflates. “I mean, I thought maybe I just had to meet someone else that had the same issue and that would be it.” 

Niall coughs. “Don’t you think we would be sleeping right now if that were the case?” 

Harry looks around the diner, his eyes fall back onto the menu. “Can I have a coffee please, Niall?” 

Louis puts his hand on Harry’s, his warmth hot against Harry’s frigidity. Harry looks up at him, eyes wide mouth parted. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you know,” he tells him softly. “Why do you need to sleep so badly?” he asks. 

Harry runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t answer, instead looks as if he’s concentrating so hard he’ll pop a vein. 

“It’s really affecting my ability to do my job,” he settles on. 

“Okay,” Louis agrees, while Niall hands him a coffee and tops off Louis’ tea. “Maybe just go through everyday as if you were sleeping. That could help.” 

Harry looks at him quizzically. “Does that really work?” 

“Have any of us slept?” 

“No,” Zayn shouts from the table. 

Harry laughs a little desperately. 

“I think it’s like, a body thing,” Liam stands up and comes to the counter next to Louis.

“A body thing,” Louis mocks. “How informative, Liam.” 

Liam whacks him on the head. “I think maybe it’s just when your body is tired enough, it’ll go to sleep.” 

“That’s not normal,” Harry argues. “Normal people sleep.” 

“We’re all perfectly healthy though,” Liam insists. “Not tired one bit.” 

“But-” Harry says a little weakly. 

“Don’t think we’ll ever figure it out, if I’m honest,” Niall says defeatedly, then goes into the kitchen. 

Louis doesn’t know what to say. 

They’re all quiet for a while. 

The music plays on. 

The clock still reading 3:00 a.m.

18 minutes later, Zayn interupts the silence, quietly, meeting all of their gazes, steadily, curiously. “I think it’s a little bigger than just your body.”

He watches Liam. 

Louis thinks Zayn might be onto something, even just for one second. 

\---

Harry joins them easily. 

He bickers with Zayn, cuddles with Liam, giggles with Niall, and talks with Louis. 

Louis finds him to be the most beautiful boy in the world. 

\--- 

Louis is in the middle of his routine, his tube ride home, when music is blaring from the girl next to him. 

Louis sighs. 

It’s loud enough to be annoying, but not loud enough for him to hear. 

The screen lights up when she changes the song, and he looks down, only to see Harry’s face staring back at him. 

Louis freezes. 

_Harry Styles._

Louis thinks of the rock songs he hears on the radio, the boy that everyone swore would never break the mainstream scene, but ended up charming his way through the U.K. and United States anyway. At least, that’s what Louis had heard. He thinks he might have like one album, maybe two. Louis knows his sisters went to see him on tour. 

Well, shit. 

\---

“Harry’s proper famous,” is the first thing out of his mouth at 1:32 a.m. 

Niall doesn’t even look up, and Zayn and Liam look confused. 

“Yes?” They both say very, very, slowly. 

“What the fuck?” Louis almost screeches. 

“How did you not know?” Liam laughs at him. 

“I don’t know,” Louis says. “Haven’t like, spent much time listening to music lately, I guess. Haven’t had much time.” 

With his routine and all. 

Zayn looks at him a little curiously. 

Harry comes in a moment later. 

“You’re proper famous,” Louis blurts out. 

Harry looks at him for a moment, a little squinty, then barks out a laugh. It’s the 6th time Louis has made him laugh like that.

Louis is pleased. 

“Yes, Lou,” he steps closer. “You don’t mind?” 

“Want to go to the Grammys next year if you’re invited,” Louis jokes, but Harry’s face drops and his entire body turns in on itself. 

Harry looks to the door as if to make an escape and Louis knows he’s fucked up. 

He invades Harry’s space. 

Zayn mutters something that sounds a lot like “fucking idiot”.

Louis ignores him. 

“Hey,” Louis says softly. “I’m just kidding, I don’t want anything from you. I just realized it today on the tube when some girl was blasting your music so loud that it was considered a concert performance.” 

Harry snorts and Louis wraps his arms around him. 

Harry snuggles right back. 

\----- 

Two days later, Harry cuddles into him in the booth and tells him about everything. About how he got fucked by the famous crowd, for being too nice, and got fucked by the not famous crowd for not giving them glory. 

He tells him softly about how he can’t win, how he can’t trust, how he can’t seem to make any friends. 

He tells Louis how he just wants to stop feeling like he’s so alone all the time. 

How he never felt like he belonged anywhere. 

Louis squeezes him a little tighter. 

\--- 

Niall decides one night to play real music. 

It disturbs the ambience, Louis thinks a little belatedly. But he doesn’t think he minds. 

Niall took out the whiskey at some point, and they’re all halfway drunk, the blinds shut and the door marked ‘Closed’. 

Liam is dancing on a table with Harry while Zayn plays air guitar and Niall films them encouragingly. 

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever laughed so hard. 

The song changes, and Louis’ back straightens. 

“Change the song,” he snaps instinctively. 

Everyone freezes. 

Louis swallows. 

“What?” He asks defensively. “I just hate this fucking song. It’s trash.” 

He realizes that might have been a little aggressive when Harry watches him for a second too long. 

“Just change it, please,” he demands exasperatedly. 

Niall changes the song. 

He hopes no one remembers later. 

\----

They don’t even fall asleep from the whiskey. 

Niall looks resigned. 

\---

Louis writes 6 songs about a boy with a soft smile and curious eyes. 

\---

 

15 days pass. 

Harry and Niall are cooking in the back, while Louis films them. 

Louis doesn’t even want to know what Zayn and Liam are doing. 

He hears a squeal from the front, followed by a muffled sound then a panicked noise, a strangled “Liam”, and the jingle of the door, followed by a slam. 

Louis’ heart drops. 

He meets Niall and Harry’s eyes quickly. 

They all run to the front, where Zayn’s head is on the table and Liam is gone. 

“What happened?” Louis asks tentatively. 

Zayn raises his head a little sadly. 

“”ve got a gallery opening in a month,” he tells them. 

They cheer loudly, roughing up Zayn and shouting until he finally laughs. 

“Liam also kissed me when I told him,” he says quietly, when they calm down. 

No one looks surprised. “Freaked him out, you think?” Niall asks. 

“Think so,” Zayn replies sadly. 

Louis wraps his arm around Zayn and cuddles him in. “He’ll realize.” 

 

\---

Liam doesn’t come in for 3 days. 

Zayn sketches constantly and barely speaks. 

He says he’s just preparing for the opening, but Louis knows better. 

They all do. 

Harry shows Louis his notes for his new album. 

Louis shows Harry his sisters, his boring job, his plant. 

Harry listens enthusiastically. 

Louis doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like Harry looks at him. 

\---

At 4:58 a.m., Liam swings the door open haphazardly barreling into the diner. 

Zayn scrambles up. 

“I’m gay,” Liam announces loudly. 

Harry lets out a weak cheer, and Zayn stares at Liam a little wildly. 

Louis isn’t sure he’s breathing, and Niall takes a bit of his chips in interest.

“I wasn’t happy with her, ever,” Liam says determinedly, walking towards Zayn. “I just, I fell headfirst for any girl that ever paid attention to me because that’s what I was supposed to do, right? And when she kept dropping hints to get married I just went with it. I just picked up my life and moved because that’s what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it? And when she broke it off, I was so lost because I had the whole romantic thing figured out, didn’t I?” 

He keeps walking towards Zayn, who’s frozen. “I didn’t realize until I looked at you, and thought, that’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

He stops in front of Zayn. 

Louis isn’t sure he’s breathing. 

He grabs onto Harry’s hand, sparing a glance. Harry’s got tears in his eyes. 

“You’re quiet, and smart, and observant, and so creative, and so wonderful,” he reaches out and caresses the side of Zayn’s face, who leans into the touch. 

“You’re the first person I’ve fallen in love with, and hopefully the last,” Liam says, and Louis’ heart falls out of his chest. 

Harry inhales sharply. 

Zayn drags Liam out of the diner so fast, Louis can’t even believe what really happened. 

Niall cheers them on throwing chips at them the whole way. 

\---

Liam and Zayn don’t come in for 5 days. 

Harry and Louis take strolls before they go into the diner, walking around the park holding hands with only the owls and light of the moon to guide them.

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy. 

\-----

 

They’re all playing hide and go seek in the diner. 

Louis flees to a back closet, hiding himself in there as far as he can, until something digs at his back. 

“Found you!” Harry opens the door with a shout. 

Louis steps out with the culprit. 

An old battered guitar. 

“What’s that?” Harry asks. 

Niall comes back from the front. 

He freezes as soon as he sees it.

“No,” Niall says loudly, arms crossed. 

Liam and Zayn scramble in, hearing his tone. 

“What’s that?” Liam asks, same as Harry. 

They all stare at Niall. 

“Niall,” Harry says slowly. “Do you play?” 

“No,” Niall says again loudly, before turning on his heel and walking back into the front of the diner. 

Harry looks to Louis. 

Louis shrugs. 

They follow him out anyway. 

Niall is sitting at a booth, arms crossed. 

They gather around him. 

It’s silent, for once. 

Niall sighs. “Picked up a guitar at 4 and never put it down. Bobby, my dad, loved music. Played it everyday. Paid for my lessons, everything.” 

“I never put it down,” he continues. “Went to uni and everything for it. Played at open mic nights. Played with Ed Sheeran when he was homeless.” 

Harry’s eyes widen in recognition for a beat too long. 

“But then Bobby died, and I dropped out of school to support my mom,” Niall swallows loudly. “I haven’t picked that thing up since. Stopped sleeping about 2 weeks later.” 

Louis closes his eyes.

They’re all quiet. 

Louis keeps his eyes closed, because he’s not sure he won’t cry if he opens them. 

There’s light plucking, followed by humming. 

Louis peaks one eye open to find Harry playing. Zayn starts humming as well really getting into it, and then Liam’s singing, “I love KFC” loudly. 

They all crack up, even Niall. 

“Chicken, chicken,” Niall chants, singing along with tears in his eyes. 

Louis watches them quietly. 

They pretend to play different songs, making them up as they go. Finally, Niall takes the guitar from Harry in a fit of laughter. 

His fingers flit over the frets perfectly. 

It’s like he never stopped. 

It’s quiet again, save for the soft humming from Harry. 

Harry eyes Louis curiously. 

Niall begins to play a chord progression, and Louis’ eyes close. 

The chords wash over him, and the words materialize, just like they always do. 

“Won’t you stay till the a.m.,” he sings faintly. “All my favorite conversations, always made in the a.m.”

Louis reaches for his small journal in his back pocket instinctively. 

Harry’s eyes are on him immediately. 

“What?” Louis asks. 

“Louis,” Niall stops playing. “What do you do again?” 

He opens the journal and starts writing what he sang down. 

_Swimming around in our glasses, talking out of our asses_ , he scrawls onto the page. 

“Louis,” Harry asks again, voice a little harder.

Louis looks up at him. “I work at an office editing bullshit.” 

Harry stares at him. “Give me the journal, Lou.” 

“No,” Louis tells him. “Fuck off.” 

Harry looks dejected. 

Louis looks around, them all staring at him curiously. 

“No,” he gets up from the table, and grabs his coat. 

He leaves without another word. 

\----

Louis can’t resist going the very next night. He shows up at 12:47 a.m. 

He throws his journals on the table in front of Harry. Niall jumps at the sound. 

Zayn and Liam’s eyes are wide. 

“Louis,” Harry starts, sadly. 

“I got fucked,” Louis says. Harry’s face falls completely, hurt, and wounded. “Not literally,” Louis backtracks, hitting himself in the face. “That song, that stupid fucking song that plays on the radio by that stupid fucking guy. I sold my song to his record label, and that was my in, wasn’t it? I was going to become the songwriter I always dreamed of. With my 6 journals worth of lyrics,” he waves his hand at the journals. “Except they gave me enough to pay for 2 months of rent and never gave me credit.” 

Harry stops breathing. His eyes hard, lips set in a thin line. 

“And that stupid fucking song is on the radio every goddamn hour, and what do I have? No sleep, no money, and a stupid fucking job that gets me nowhere.” 

A cup clatters to the ground somewhere behind the counter. 

Harry gets up abruptly. 

“Let’s go,” he grabs the notebooks, and Louis’ arm. “Niall close up shop and get your car.” 

Zayn and Liam scramble up. 

The opening is in two days and they’ve almost got everything sorted. 

Zayn hasn’t shut up about it and neither has Liam. Louis thinks back to the sad eyes Liam had. He looks at his eyes now, bright, secure, happy, a bright smile always on his face. 

Harry drags Louis out of his reverie and out the door, Niall turning off the lights, door shutting behind him with a slam.

He flips the sign to closed. 

They climb into Niall’s car. 

Harry directs Niall where to go. 

The streetlights pass over the car, bright, so very bright against the black sky. 

Nerves settle in Louis’ stomach, and his journals are heavy on his lap. 

Niall pulls into the lot in the back of some building, unnamed in the middle of London. 

“Let’s go,” Harry directs them all, pulling out keys and opening up the door. 

They wind their way up the stairs until they’re in front of a big black door with the word ‘STUDIO’ bright in white. 

Harry unlocks it with a key. 

“I’ve been recording my new album here,” he states plainly. 

There’s a list of songs on the whiteboard on the wall. ‘Sweet creature’ sticks out to Louis the most. 

Liam and Zayn settle onto the couch. Harry hands Niall a guitar, and all but shoves him in the booth. 

“No one,” he looks at Louis, as fiercely as Louis has ever seen him look. He stops himself and shakes his head. “You deserve everything you’ve ever dreamed, Louis.” 

He grabs his face and kisses him on the forehead, before shoving him into the booth with Niall. 

“Pick lyrics from Louis, Niall. Sing them,” Harry directs them again, his voice gravely from the microphone. 

Niall and Louis agree on the song Louis had started the night before. 

They go through it quickly just as a practice, fixing up any lyrics, noting the note changes in the bridge, working through the logistics. 

They’re ready in 24 minutes. 

“Ready,” Louis looks at Harry, who smiles at him like he’s the sun. 

Louis steps out of the booth. 

Niall takes a deep breath. 

Harry presses record. 

\---

They stay there all night and most of the next day. 

Louis calls out of work. 

They record 7 of Louis’ songs. 

Harry’s manager walks in around the 8th. 

He pulls out Harry for a second, and Louis panics, throwing a look to Zayn and Liam as if to say, “please, please don’t take this away from me”. 

Harry returns 3 minutes and 40 seconds later with a big smile on his face. 

“You did it, Lou,” he mumbles into the Louis’ neck.

Louis’ on the phone with Harry’s lawyer 2 hours and 34 seconds later, drawing up his songwriting contract. 

Niall’s in a meeting with Liam as support.

Zayn’s setting up his show for the next day. 

Louis doesn’t think life could get any better.

\---

That is until it’s 7:33 p.m. and Louis is on his couch, watching his crime shows, with Harry cuddled into his side. 

“I’m so glad I met you, Lou,” Harry says, quietly, softly, as if to not frighten him, or his plant. 

Louis turns to him. 

Harry’s face is soft, open, happy, green eyes filled with something he can’t recognize. “I think I could fall in love with you,” Louis tells him. 

Harry bumps his forehead against Louis’. “Think I could fall in love with you, too.” 

Louis laughs, ridiculously, incredulously, until Harry is laughing along with him, and then kissing him so soundly that Louis can’t remember how to breathe. 

They kiss for hours, gunshots and coroner’s offices playing behind them as white noise. 

They kiss until they’re gasping for it, shirts and pants coming off one at a time, sweat covering their bodies. 

They kiss until their mouths trace all over each others bodies, down each others neck, sternum, biting at thighs and biting at hips. 

They kiss until they roll over onto the floor, and then laugh their way down the hall.

They kiss until they’re on Louis’ bed, naked and flushed, rubbing each other like they’re teenagers. 

They kiss until they’re impatient, Louis settling himself between Harry’s legs, sucking and licking until Harry’s shaking and returning the favor greedily, like he’s always been begging for it. 

They kiss until they wonder about their best friends, wondering about how lucky they are to have found each other. 

They kiss until they’re tired, whispering about their dreams, about their lives, about their future together. 

They kiss until they fall asleep at 3 a.m. on the dot. 

Tomorrow a brand new adventure. 

\---

Liam settles into Zayn’s flat, all artwork already in the gallery, but photos of the boys, of Liam, of Zayn’s family still lining the walls. 

“Excited for tomorrow, babe?” Liam asks as he wraps his arms around Zayn.

Zayn hums and settles into his chest, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Can’t wait, babe. Going to be the best day of my life.”

Liam sighs happily. “Love you.” 

Zayn kisses him sweet. “Love you.” 

The clock hits 3:00 a.m., and they fall asleep to the sound of the Avengers playing quietly in the background. 

\---

Niall mops the floor, humming along to a song he and Louis played earlier in the day. 

He’s got a meeting with a lawyer on Monday, a contract in his hand today, and a guitar just waiting to be played. 

The music plays softly, and Niall’s eyes look up at the clock. 

It hits 3:01 a.m, and he puts away the mop, turns off the lights, and closes the door, flicking the sign to close. 

He goes home and goes right to sleep. 

He’s thinks they all finally found where they belong. 

\-----

At 7:30 a.m., the whole world’s alarms go off, but they stay sleeping.

**Author's Note:**

> post can be found post can be found [right here](http://yoursongonmyheart.tumblr.com/post/169557088711/i-was-at-an-all-night-diner)


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